Salvation
by Lulubird
Summary: Nothing on earth is as dark and dangerous and terrifying as the depths of Clarke's mind as she battles with her guilt following the massacre at Mount Weather. Lost in the woods she stumbles upon the only soul as blackened and scarred as her own. Clexa. Picks up after 2x16. Multichapter. Canon. Not a sequel to Survivors (sorry).
1. Prologue

The roiling grey clouds threatened rain, possibly even snow. Clarke looked up at them, throwing her head back and letting the crisp wind sting her cheeks and nose. She'd only ever read about snow: _precipitation in the form of crystalline water ice_. Scientific words didn't give her much towards imagining what snow would actually feel like and look like. On one hand, her insatiable curiosity begged the clouds to break open and send down their frozen load. On the other hand, she was alone in the woods, she had no food, no extra clothing and no place to sleep, and snow would surely bring about her death much sooner.

She dropped her head from the threatening sky. There it was again, that itch between her shoulder blades. She looked around the trees but only the leaves moved, rustling gently as if to show her there was nothing there. She'd had the feeling that she was being watched since she left Camp Jaha. It could have been Bellamy, following her to make sure she was alright or trying to convince her to go back, but she didn't think so. She knew what his eyes felt like on her back and this felt far too unpleasant for that.

She shook it off and began her trudging hike again. She'd come quite a distance in the two days or so since she'd left the camp. She'd been steadily climbing. It hadn't been a conscious thought but once, when she paused, and looked back down the slope which she'd been climbing, she realized that she'd turned towards the hardest path without even thinking. Raven would say she was trying to punish herself.

But Clarke didn't feel as though she needed to. She didn't feel much of anything really, and she was hoping to keep it that way for as long as possible. That was why she hadn't stopped hiking even when the sun finally slipped behind the horizon and the woods were plunged into near darkness. She'd kept putting one foot in front of the other, pushing herself back up without hesitation whenever she tripped or stumbled over a root or rock. She was filthy again. Mud coated her legs up to her knees where she'd slipped in a bog, her left cheek stung where a branch had scratched the entire length of her cheekbone, and blood had long since dried on her hands and elbows, the result of dozens of hard landings.

Her legs were shaking with each step but she couldn't stop. Once she did, she'd die where she fell, she knew it as surely as she knew the sun would set.

The back of her neck tingled. Her head whipped around, certain that if she were only quick enough she'd catch a flash of clothing or skin as it disappeared from sight. All she caught though was her foot on a root and she was sent thudding to her knees, thankfully onto leaves instead of rock this time, but it still jarred her whole body painfully. Clarke let her head fall forwards.

"Get up," she said to herself. In her head her voice was strong, stern, unsympathetic, but it came out as barely a breath. "Up!" she repeated, but her body wasn't obeying.

She stayed kneeling on the forest floor for what felt like hours, trying to find the strength to push herself up again. Several times she heard rustling in the undergrowth that wasn't natural. Even that could not motivate her to get up again. It was only with dusk that she moved, and not in the way that she wanted to. As the light faded from the sky, so did the last of her courage that was keeping her upright.

Perhaps if she knew where she was going she'd be able to get up, but tomorrow stretched ahead of her like a yawning black pit that bled into the next day and then the next. As the shadows clawed their way towards her, tree branches reaching out like flailing limbs, she felt them latch onto her mind and the thoughts that had been kept at bay by her footsteps for the last few days stirred.

It began in her throat, catching every time she swallowed, making her feel as though she was going to vomit. She had to squeeze her eyes shut tight to hold out against the images of Mt Weather – people slumped over in their seats, children stretched out on the floor where they had fallen, an old man reaching for his wife's hand but no quite closing the distance before he died. Her whole body began to shake and as another day ended with the sun sliding behind the mountains, Clarke collapsed onto the forest floor. She landed awkwardly, her shoulder twisted so the muscles ached and pulled, but she couldn't move an inch. She laid her head against the damp, decomposing leaves and gave herself up to the darkness.

Through the fragmented torrent of her own mind, she heard the rustling again, and then more certain noises: a breaking twig, light footsteps, a whisper. Her eyes had drifted shut but some, irrepressible instinct inside her forced them open one last time.

Dark shapes – figures- closed in on her. Her heart gave a pathetic flutter of fear but that was her body's only reaction. Someone knelt in front of her, too small and skinny-limbed to be an adult, but her eyes were closing again.

Timid, experimental fingers touch her cheek.

"Look what I found…"


	2. Chapter 1

"Em laik invasir."

"Or thef?"

"Skaikru."

"Hobvu."

The quiet voices were the first thing to penetrate Clarke's consciousness. The second was the hardness of the ground upon which she lay. At first she thought that she was still dreaming, because she could not draw meaning out of the voices that shot back and forth, but after a couple of minutes she recognized the harsh-soundings words as Trigedasleng, the Grounder language.

She opened her eyes. There wasn't even a flutter of fear in her heart this time. She couldn't even tell if it was beating, but she supposed it had to be. The rocks in the earth scraped on her bare skin as she shifted and her joints cracked and ached but she was detached from the pain.

"Em op," said a girl's voice from near her head and Clarke rolled her eyes towards the noise. Footsteps pattered away and, upside down, she saw a young girl, no more than five surely, peering at her in a crouch from across a room.

Head aching, Clarke dropped her eyes again and turned her thoughts inwards. She was alive. She'd thought she was laying down to die in the woods out there. Was she glad to be alive? As usual her survival instinct had won out and stubbornly refused to let her give up completely.

_You've come too far, done too much, for it all to be for nothing now_, said a sly voice in her head.

"Where am I?" Clarke tried to ask, but her voice was a broken rasp. She cleared her throat and tried again, the noises forming into something closer to words this time.

"Chit em spek?" said the same girl again.

"Ai laik ka," a boy's voice replied.

Clarke rolled over onto her elbows, unaffected by their rawness against the rock-hard ground. She pushed herself to her knees and, with phenomenal effort, lifted her head and looked at her surroundings. She was encircled by half a dozen Grounders, staring back at her with unblinking eyes. She'd never seen Grounders like these ones though. Surely none of them had even reached puberty yet. The limbs sticking from their coats and hides were as skinny as sticks and their faces had that roundness that seemed to disappear with adulthood.

"Does anyone speak English?" she asked. She still wasn't scared, though from all her experience with the Grounders, the fact that these were children did not diminish their danger at all. She wouldn't be surprised if their five-year-olds could kill a grown man.

"Yes," replied one of the older girls, stepping in front of the others slightly. She had a long, intelligent-looking face but her eyes were hard and black and reminded Clarke of the way that Indra always looked at her.

"Where am I?" Clarke repeated. Her voice was becoming stronger with each word and she could feel the strength returning to the rest of her body too. It wasn't from food or water or sleep, all of which she desperately needed, but from the same source that kept refusing to let her die.

"Katadral," the eldest girl answered. Clarke nodded as if she understood what that meant.

"Is that a town?"

"Yes," the girl answered curtly. Then she tilted her head to the side in a manner that reminded Clarke distinctively of a bird of prey. "You're one of the Sky People, aren't you?"

Momentarily distracted from her study of the girl by the question, Clarke's mouth opened but she stopped. She didn't know how to answer that question anymore. She didn't know who she was or what she was. "I don't know," she muttered eventually, dropping her head. It was like cold ice on her skin, the realization that she didn't have an identity.

"We know you are – your clothes," one of the boys cut in. He was younger and thick-set, though he still didn't look well-fed.

"We were told not to go near Sky People," one of the other boys said, sounding a lot less confidant than the others.

Clarke looked across the mud-streaked, eager-eyed faces. She wondered if they'd argued about bringing her back to their town. Some of them obviously didn't like being in the same room as her, let alone having her there. Perhaps they had done it against the rules. It amused her to think that she had become a group of children's act of innocent rebellion.

"Who told you that?" she asked. She had no idea what Grounder parenting was like but she couldn't imagine them sitting their children down and giving them a firm list of do's and don'ts and the appropriate punishments.

"Leksa," the first boy said.

"Chit yus spek? Y yu stespek Leksa?" the first, youngest girl asked, looking up at the leader-girl and clutching at the edge of her cloak demandingly. It gave Clarke the impression that she was often left out and ignored.

"Heda, Kasim," the girl snapped at the boy who had spoken – Kasim, presumably. He glared at her back but he didn't speak again.

But Clarke's ears had pricked up at the familiar name. She was surprised at the rush that went through her body. Was it relief at hearing a familiar name or was it something else? She didn't even know anymore. She'd been lost and confused long before the…events at Mt Weather and she couldn't even bring herself to contemplate any of those old thoughts and feelings now.

"Lexa?" she echoed, lifting on her knees slightly and looking around the faces again. "I need to see Lexa…the Commander – Heda."

"Why?" the eldest girl snapped, her eyes narrowing.

"I…tell her it's Clarke."

"Clarke. Of the Skaikru. That is your name?"

Again Clarke found it difficult to accept the identity. Sky Person, Skaikru, neither name felt as though they fitted anymore.

"Clarke is my name, yes."

* * *

Trigedasleng Translations (translated from a combination of a dictionary provided at exodusfromgenesis. . ?showtopic=297&amp;st=0&amp; and my own translations)

_Em laik invasir_ – She's an invader

_Or thef_ – Or a thief

_Skaikru_ – Sky person

_Hobvu_ \- Obviously

_Em op_ – She's up

_Chit em spek_? - What did she say?

_Ai laik ka?_ – Where am I?

_Chit yus spek? Y yu stespek Leksa_ – What are you saying? Why are you talking about Lexa?

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the support with the first chapter guys! I'm really excited about this story and exploring deeper into the twisted psyche of Lexa and Clarke's chemistry. **

** I know the chapters are quite short but with my lifestyle it's easier to write smaller chapters and upload them more frequently, so I hope you can bear with that. Ultimately, thanks for reading so far!**

**\- Lu**


	3. Chapter 2

They left her alone after that but it was obvious to Clarke that she was a prisoner still. She didn't need to get up and try the wooden door to know that it was barred. There were no windows in the room, the floor was packed earth and the walls were a combination of pre-Apocalypse concrete and rebuilt stone. She guessed that she was in a storeroom of some kind. Or perhaps they had dedicated rooms for holding prisoners. Before Lexa's alliance with the other clans, Clarke gathered that the Trigedakru had been in a state of constant war.

She had no concept of how long she sat with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. More than once she drifted off to sleep and woke with a stiff neck. She'd gone past the stage of hunger. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling now. There had been so many times in the recent months where food had been downgraded on the list of necessities. A universe away, back on the Ark, she'd never have thought she'd be in a situation where food was not the most important thing to survival.

During brief periods of consciousness, she contemplated what was happening on the other side of the door. The children – the word didn't quite fit Grounder young – had said she was in a place called Katadral. How far was that from the ruins of Tondc. She didn't even know if that was where Lexa was now. Perhaps she'd returned to the Capitol – Polis – and was miles away and unreachable.

Even if she was nearby and the children or villagers decided to pass along Clarke's message, would Lexa come?

The question was answered for her when the door opened silently. It was only the rush of chill air that woke Clarke, jolted from horrifying dreams. She blinked blearily at the figure silhouetted in the doorway against what appeared to be sunset light, but she didn't need her full vision to recognize her.

Lexa stepped lightly into the hut alone and the door closed behind her again. They obviously did not consider Clarke much of a threat. She couldn't blame them. She didn't have the energy to get up; she barely managed to keep her head up to watch Lexa as she approached and then stopped a few feet from her.

They observed each other in mutual silence for several long minutes. Now that she was here, Clarke no longer knew what she wanted to say. As she'd walked away from Camp Jaha, her head had been buzzing with thoughts of Lexa, but now it was strangely empty.

Eventually, Lexa lifted her chin. "Did you come to kill me, Clarke?" she asked softly.

Those eyes were unforgiving in their intensity.

Clarke couldn't look away. "No."

Did Lexa think that she was on some kind of assassination mission? Seeking revenge for her betrayal?

There had been a moment when, in a white hot flash of rage and shock, Clarke had wanted Lexa dead. As she'd stood facing the seemingly impenetrable door of Mount Weather, hemorrhaging hope, she'd wanted nothing more than to slide a blade into Lexa's heart the way she'd driven Clarke to slide one into Finn's.

But how could she blame Lexa for what she'd done after pulling that lever in Mount Weather? She understood now, the awful decisions that they were forced to make for the sake of their people. Lexa chose her people's lives over those of Clarke's, but Clarke had chosen the Arkians lives over every single one in Mount Weather. She had acted as judge and executioner, deciding who got to live and die, and she could never undo it.

"I wasn't looking for you," Clarke murmured, shaking her head. The thoughts of Mount Weather had left a lump in her throat that made it hard to swallow. "I don't know what I was looking for."

Lexa's expression was void of emotion. Clarke wished that she knew how to put up the mask that Lexa always wore. She wished that she could face the world and herself with the strength that Lexa could.

After several moments of silent contemplation, Lexa moved forward. She knelt on the ground and then carefully folded herself into a sitting position. It was too casual, too _normal_ a thing for the fierce Commander to do and it didn't look right. From her cloak she slid a flask and held it out.

"Water, you must be thirsty."

Clarke wrapped her fingers around the container and Lexa slid her hand away before there was any chance that they could brush. Clarke lifted her eyes back to Lexa's face but she wouldn't meet them. Clarke cradled the water in her lap but she did not move to drink.

"How do you bear it?" she questioned softly.

Lexa's eyes flickered in the way that Clarke had come to realize was her only tell for the emotions that raged beneath her cool exterior.

"Bear what?" she asked, lifting her chin again as if she felt threatened by Clarke's question.

"The decisions you've made," Clarke said. If there was anyone who could tell Clarke how to exist after what she'd done it was the person sitting in front of her.

Lexa's eyes flickered again and she looked away, staring intently at the wall.

"I have no choice," she answered after a while. There was a rawness in her voice that made Clarke's heart kick in her chest – the first time since waking in Katadral that she'd felt anything from it.

"Nothing in my life has been a choice," Lexa continued, "Why should that be any different?"


	4. Chapter 3

The pressure in the room was extreme. Clarke couldn't bear to hear the heartbreaking resignation in Lexa's voice anymore.

"They told me I was in a town called Katadral," she said, changing the subject.

A look of relief flashed across Lexa's face before it quickly returned to its usual blankness.

"Yes. You are some distance from Tondc," she said. "And your people."

Clarke nodded as she processed this. She couldn't even recall which direction she had walked in when she'd left the Camp. She was glad that she was nowhere near Tondc. She couldn't bear to see the ruins of the village – further reminder of the terrible sacrifices of human life that she had made.

"But…you came here?" she said, eying Lexa, "For m-"

"I was already here, Clarke," Lexa snapped, her eyes flashing.

That surprised Clarke. Of all the Grounder territory she could have stumbled upon, she'd managed to find the one where Lexa was? That made her stomach do something funny.

A beat of silence passed between them, sizzling with the ferocity in Lexa's tone.

When Clarke dared glance at her again, her gaze had softened.

"This is my home," she explained in a gentler voice.

She knew so much about Lexa but also so little. How had she never wondered where Lexa was from, where she had grown up? She tried to imagine Lexa as one of the Grounder children that had captured her but it didn't work.

"Your family is here?" Clarke asked, forgetting for the time being the guilt and the pain that had driven her there.

Lexa looked guarded, as if she didn't like the direction that their conversation had taken. She shifted but reluctantly answered.

"We have a different view of klan – family – to your people," she said, measuring each word.

Clarke frowned. "A mother, a father, brothers and sisters?" She knew that family meant much more than that limited list now - those blood relations didn't explain the connection and belonging she felt to every one of the remaining 100 though, to Bellamy and Raven, Jasper and Monty, even Octavia - but it was still the default definition.

Lexa looked away and her words were almost an echo of Clarke's thoughts. "Blood isn't the most important thing to us. Our village is our kin. We are raised by Intals and Onkals who are not necessarily related to us."

"Who were you raised by?" Clarke pushed, knowing that every inch closer to something Lexa didn't want to reveal was a dangerous move.

She knew the instant that she'd gone too far by the way that Lexa's jaw clenched and her eyes hardened. It was remarkable how so much could be conveyed by those wise, grey eyes.

"Why are you asking me these questions, Clarke? This is not why you came here."

Clarke licked her cracked lips. "I told you, I didn't come here. Those children brought me."

Only a few times had Clarke seen the smallest of smiles flicker across Lexa's lips, and she was treated to another one now.

"You were captured by a group of children." It wasn't a question, but a mocking statement.

Clarke ignored the teasing. She looked away, focusing on the windowless wall so that she didn't have to look at Lexa as she said, "I couldn't be with the Ark anymore."

She desperately wanted to tell Lexa what she had done, to let the spoken words lift some of the burden from her shoulders, but the idea of voicing the terrible thing she had done made bile rise in the back of her throat.

With a rustle of fabric, Lexa shifted closer to Clarke.

"I know," she said gently and, like a magnet, Clarke's gaze was pulled back to the beautiful features of her face and the depthless wisdom of her eyes.

"I abandoned our alliance, Clarke," Lexa said, pronouncing the syllables of her name as if they were a delicacy. "But I did not abandon you. I know everything that happened."

Her words broke something in Clarke's chest and a sob ripped from her raw throat. Her head dropped and the tears that had been threatening her for days finally dropped from her eyes.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she gasped.

* * *

Trigedasleng Translations (translated from a combination of a dictionary provided at exodusfromgenesis. . ?showtopic=297&amp;st=0&amp; and my own translations)

Klan – family

Intal – Aunt

Onkal – Uncle

* * *

**A/N: Do you think Clarke's feelings are justified? Should she be forgiven for what she did? **

**Thanks so much for the support guys! As I said, I know the chapters are short but I hope that this will help me to keep them frequent. And not all of them are turning out this short.**

**Also, I can tease you with the fact that there will be some Kostia x Leksa flashbacks in future chapters! They were very painful to write so I hope you appreciate them :p**

**\- Lu**


	5. Chapter 4

Clarke tried to control her breathing but the monster that had been slowly wrapping itself tighter around her chest since she pulled that lever had finally crushed her ribs. Lexa sat motionless while she struggled with the monster called guilt. She didn't move to comfort her and Clarke was grateful. She couldn't bear anyone telling her that she didn't deserve all the pain that this caused her. Bellamy had tried, so had Monty and her mom. She didn't want to be absolved of those deaths.

"You're a leader, Clarke," Lexa said simply, as if that was the answer to everything.

Clarke shook her head, her knotted and wild hair flying around her. "I'm a killer. I killed all those people. _Children_."

As soon as she'd said it out loud the pressure in her chest vanished and she could draw breath again. Shaking, she wiped away the tears tracking lines through the dirt and blood on her cheeks.

"People who killed your people," Lexa said in the same calm, even, reasonable tone. "Children who would have grown up to kill you and your people."

Through the blur of tears, Clarke focused on Lexa again. Sometimes she did not understand her at all.

"How can you see it so simply?" she begged for the answer, the solution. Would she want to see the world as black and white as Lexa did? It'd make her life so much easier but…

Lexa pursed her lips and Clarke thought she might have offended her with the question. But then she swallowed and the veil dropped from her eyes again, letting Clarke see that rare glimpse of the conflicted, haunted, vulnerable girl that was underneath.

"Because the alternative is madness," Lexa said matter-of-factly.

Clarke didn't believe that people were born good or evil or kind or mean. She was firmly on the side of nurture in the debate, so it was ridiculous that she had been so hard on Lexa at times. How had she never wondered properly about what had made Lexa the person she was today? Of course there was Costia, but there had to be more than that. Clarke couldn't imagine the horrors of a life where it was possible to bear the decisions that Lexa had to make.

Lexa squared her shoulders – a visible hardening of herself – and pulled a parcel wrapped in cloth from her jacket. She lay it on the ground between them and unwrapped some dark, brown bread soaked in what looked and smelled like honey. Clarke had only had real honey once, in Lexa's tent while they planned their attack on Mount Weather. They'd had the flavor of honey on the Ark but nothing could have prepared her for the succulence and indulgence of the real thing. She licked her lips again, feeling her stomach twinge at the smell of the food. Lexa held out one of the pieces of bread but Clarke didn't take it. Despite her hunger, she didn't see how she could sit there and eat as if she deserved life more than the people she had massacred.

Lexa's face showed impatience. "Salvation won't come from martyrdom, Clarke," she snapped.

Still Clarke stared at the offering, unable to make her muscles move to accept it.

With a sudden ripple of movement, Lexa moved towards her so close that Clarke could smell the wood smoke on her skin.

Lexa lifted the bread to Clarke's lips as if she were a child and, when she felt the stickiness of the honey on her lips they parted instinctively. She was locked with Lexa's intensive gaze as she licked some honey from the bread. The sweetness flooded her mouth and sent a burst of sensation through her body. Suddenly she was acutely aware of every ache and pain and sting, of her damp, freezing clothing sticking to her body, of the discomfort of her position…of the immense pressure of her proximity to Lexa. Unlike the previous kiss they had shared, she felt nothing romantic about the moment and the tenderness with which Lexa continued to hand feed her the live-giving honey, but she felt something even more powerful and important to her at that moment – connection.

"It will get easier," Lexa breathed, lifting a finger tip to her lips and licking a drop of honey from them and then folding the empty cloth in her lap.

Clarke said nothing. There was nothing to say. She let the energy seep back into her bones and her muscles as if she was receiving a second life. If only it were that easy.

"Not for a while," Lexa continued in the silence, her head down, eyes on the cloth which she was folding beyond need. "You'll feel it in your chest when you try and breathe. It'll hurt in your stomach when you try and eat. It'll burn your throat when you try and drink. You'll question everything you ever knew and it will make your head pound. You'll crave sleep only to be tormented by their faces. You won't feel you deserve anything – happiness, love, life. You'll feel anger that this burden had to fall on you and you'll resent everyone that didn't have to make that choice. It will be like a living hell. But it will get better. You will survive, Clarke."

* * *

**A/N: There were some extremely kind reviews and messages after the last chapter and I can't say thank you enough for them. They really, really plastered a great big dorky smile on my face during a particularly exhausting week.**

**\- Lu**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the hold up with a chapter my lovely readers! I hope this longer chapter (and the next few too!) will make up for it. Have a lovely easter to all those who celebrate.**

**\- Lu**

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Lexa led Clarke from her temporary prison cell. The village appeared empty as they walked across a small patch of bare earth towards one of the largest shanties, but Clarke was sure she could feel dozens of pairs of eyes on her back. She inspected the shadowed windows and doorways of the buildings that they passed but nothing stirred.

Despite the burst of life that the food had given her, Clarke found her limbs heavy as they walked into the dwelling. Lexa swept aside a curtain to reveal a simple bed, but just the sight of it made Clarke's eyelids start to droop. She collapsed on the side with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

"You can sleep here for now," Lexa answered, a slight smile gracing her lips. "I have some people to talk to but I'll be back later. Get some rest."

She didn't give Clarke time to thank her or to say anything before she swept out of the hut with a swirl of her cloak. Clarke sighed; Lexa's hot-and-cold act was infuriating sometimes.

She didn't give the Commander anymore thought though because as soon as she stretched out on the bed, she was already fast asleep.

* * *

Again, Clarke woke to the sounds of children's voices. It took her a long time to remember where she was and what had happened. Sitting up in the bed, she realized that she could hear the children shouting and calling outside and other voices in the backgrounds. There was something peaceful, comfortable, about the noise.

Looking around the small hut, Clarke saw no sign of Lexa, but there were some clothes folded neatly on the edge of the bed. As she unfolded herself onto the floor and stretched, she assessed. Sleep was not a miracle worker and she still had aches and pains everywhere but she hadn't felt so clear-headed in god knew how long. She tugged on the clothes, thankful to finally be out of the shredded, muddy wreck that she'd been walking and fighting in for weeks now, splashed ice cold water on her face from a jug on the table, and ventured outside looking for Lexa.

It was the first time that she had properly seen a Grounder village. On every other occasion, she'd felt as though she was a spectacal in a zoo and the air had crackled with tension and danger. It took several minutes before anyone even noticed her standing in the shadow of the hut, wearing her Grounder clothes. It gave her time to notice the group of children playing in the open space between houses, the two women standing in a doorway chatting, one bouncing an infant on her hip. A group of warriors strolled through, both men and women, looking less fearsome somewhere in their own environment. One of them kicked a ball back to the children.

As Clarke's gaze drifted over the scene, she spotted the only other person alone. In a doorway across from her a man was half-concealed in the shadows, but she could see clearly enough that his gaze was fixed straight on her. Instinctively, her skin prickled.

Trying to ignore it, she walked out of the shadow of the hut and into the cool winter sunshine, towards the group of children. She recognized two of them from her captors – the little girl who did not speak English and the outspoken boy, Kasim.

Seeing her approach, the children scattered, all except Kasim who greeted her with a broad grin as if they were old friends.

"Skaikru!" he greeted as if it were her name. She couldn't help but smile in return though. It had been too long since she'd been around the pure delight of a child. No matter what culture they were from – the Grounders, the Ark, even the children of Mount Weather – they seemed imbued with a natural delight of life. Quickly, she pushed aside the image of the Mount Weather children. She couldn't go there; she wouldn't come back.

"Kasim, right?" she said, joining him in the make-shift field they'd made. She glanced at the other children who had taken refuge in various buildings or behind various adults, who had also started to notice her. The two women standing in the doorway were eying her and exchanging comments. She didn't need to hear to guess what they were saying; and she couldn't blame them. She was a stranger in the heart of their village and it was only Lexa's word that was allowing her to be there at all. As she'd learned in Tondc, though they might obey Lexa's word, not everyone necessarily agreed with it.

"You're under Heda's protection," Kasim stated seriously. He was looking at Clarke with a combination of open curiosity and slightly fearful awe. It made her feel even more like an exotic animal, out of her environment.

"Not sure it makes much difference to some people," she commented, again glancing around the people watching her. That tickle was between her shoulder blades again though this time she knew exactly where it was coming from. The villagers of Katadral didn't seem to consider openly staring to be rude and they made no attempt to hide their actions when Clarke looked in their direction.

"Everyone obeys Lexa…," Kasim said sternly, as if the thought of the contrary was horrendous. It intrigued Clarke to consider that these people had known Lexa before she wore the Commander's cloak. Again, she found it hard to imagine Lexa as a young girl or a child, but regardless, these people had known her then. Kasim considered his words, tilting his head to the side in the same way that Lexa did when she was thinking about something deeply. "They just think you're strange," he decided.

"Good to know," Clarke said dryly, though from his expression her tone was lost on Kasim.

"You fell from the sky!" he said with childish awe. "You lived in space. That scares them."

A sudden shiver ran through Clarke's body. "Does it scare him?" she asked, turning in time to catch a flash of tattooed skin as the man from the doorway disappeared back into the shadows. She had dozens of people staring at her from all sides and yet her skin seemed to sizzle where his eyes were falling and she couldn't shake the feeling of darkness building behind her.

Kasim leaned around her and followed where she indicated with an arm to the hut. Reluctantly, Clarke turned her back on the open doorway through which she was certain she was still being observed, and studied Kasim's face. He wore that all-too-familiar guarded Grounded expression and she knew before he spoke that she wasn't going to receive a useful answer.

"That's Saxon," he said but he would not longer meet her eyes. Clarke wondered how terrifying this man must be to have someone like Kasim in fear; when none of the other villagers would approach her, Kasim entered into conversation with delight, yet he shook himself as if he could suddenly feel a chill on his skin.

"I'm getting the impression he doesn't like me being here," Clarke said diplomatically. Her gaze drifted passed Kasim to where a figure was cutting her way through the shanties. Clarke's gaze was drawn to Lexa like suicidal moths to a flame, but then so were most other people's in the square. Even though she had not been particularly aware of voices before, Clarke suddenly noticed their absence as a hush fell over everyone. Lexa nodded respectfully to the two women and her eyes smiled upon Kasim as she approached. Even though she still wore her rippling cloak and her sword still hung at her hip, Lexa seemed softer somehow amid her own people. Clarke found she was smiling as Lexa joined them and she'd forgotten completely about the man in the shadows.

"I've decided you should have a tour," Lexa instructed without preamble, and it only increased Clarke's amusement. She wondered how many extra years of her life Lexa saved by not wasting time on useless words.

"Who will be my tour guide?" Clarke asked, surprising herself as the slight teasing note of her voice. She bit her cheek as Kasim's face lit up and he began to bounce on his feet. She forced the smile to vanish from her face. She didn't deserve to be smiling and she definitely didn't deserve to banter with Lexa as if nothing had happened, as if she wasn't the most blood-stained and vile person in the village.

Lexa watched the thoughts chase each other across her face and once again Clarke wished she possessed the mask that Lexa used. She was sick of everyone reading her heart in her eyes.

After a pause, Lexa placed a gentle hand on Kasim's vibrating shoulder.

"Maybe you can host our guest after evening meal, Kasim," she said with an unheard of gentleness in her voice. "But I think for now I would like to spend some time with Clarke."


	7. Chapter 6

Clarke had slept through most of the day in Lexa's home and so as they made their way through the little collection of buildings, people were moving in from the woods and the workshops and disappearing into their homes. Smoke curled from every chimney and several outdoor ovens. Clarke thought of the end of a day on the Ark: sirens and loudspeakers instructing everyone of the timeslot they could collect their rations, bathe, collect fresh supplies; people disappearing into their apartments with the swish of an electronic door; deserted corridors lit by flickering fluorescent lights.

The evenings in Katadral were more like those that the 100 had shared before the world had started caving in on them: faces lit by firelight, laughing, talking about the day; plates of crude but welcome meals passing around a circle; the fading sunlight filtered orange and then mauve through the trees until the shadows slowly pushed the people from the outdoors into their homes.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Lexa said quietly and Clarke turned, realizing that they had both stopped walking at the top of a ridge and had been staring, deep in thought, at the village laid out below them. Clarke studied Lexa's profile in the dim light for several moments, impressed by the deep affection and longing in her eyes.

"It is," Clarke replied and Lexa turned suddenly, meeting her eyes. Another one of those rare smiles slipped across her face.

"Before the sunlight fades completely, we can walk down the ridge along the outside of the village," Lexa said. Clarke let her lead, stepping in the shallow footprints that Lexa left in the soft, rich earth.

They walked in silence for around fifteen minutes. Clarke didn't feel the need to say anything and, for the first time since Mount Weather, her guilt wasn't the first thing in her mind. It was as if the forest flooded into her brain, filling her senses to the brim. The trees rustled and tardy birds twittered on the way back to their nest.

As the shadows became more intense, Clarke fell behind. Lexa seemed as surefooted and nimble in the near-dark of the floor as in broad daylight, but even when she carefully picked her way through the roots and brambles, Clarke still managed to end up on the ground several times. After one fall, she picked herself up and brushed the dirt from her recently-clean clothes, looked up and spotted Lexa's silhouette frozen between two trees ahead of her. The skin across Clarke's neck prickled and her chest suddenly felt tight. There was something about Lexa's stance that caused her body to begin it's fight-or flight battle. She forced her mind to choose fight and slowly approached Lexa. As soon as she cleared the trees, she too stopped dead and the air caught in her chest.

"Oh my God," Clarke breathed. In front of them the body of a young woman was tied to the trunk of a tree. It was painfully obvious that she was dead, from the way her whole body strained forward against the ropes to the ashen colour of her skin. The ground tilted underneath Clarke's feet and she clutched at Lexa's arm. She couldn't see anymore death. It didn't matter whether this one was her fault or not she couldn't cope with more death.

"What happened to her?" Clarke whispered as if she was afraid of waking the dead girl. Under her fingers Lexa was as stiff as one of the trees around them and, when she didn't answer, Clarke turned to see her face as hard as stone and her eyes completely blank.

Immediately Clarke felt guilty for indulging her own reaction. This was one of Lexa's people, probably someone from her village, and they'd been strung up on a tree and left to die. And it didn't look as though it was kind death. The clothing on the corpse was ripped and shredded in places as if animals had attacked it during the night. Clarke didn't want to think whether that had happened before or after the poor girl died.

"Did you know her?" Clarke murmured, turning her back on the body and stepping in front of Lexa's view. It was as much for her as it was for Lexa. The sight of the slack body reminded her too much of Finn bound to that pole as she'd walked away from his lifeless body.

Lexa's eyes flickered. "No," she said shortly. Her voice was devoid of emotion but by now Clarke knew that that was a sure sign that beneath her mask she was in turmoil.

Gently, Clarke clasped Lexa by the elbows and gave her a soft squeeze to recall her from wherever she'd disappeared to inside her head. It worked and she focused her eyes on Clarke.

"I don't know her," she insisted.

"Okay," Clarke said, nodding. She tried not to let her face show any pity, because she knew it would only enrage Lexa, but if she'd found one of her people in such a state she'd be a complete mess.

"We should cut her down," Clarke said reluctantly. She loathed the idea of approaching the body let alone touching it but they couldn't leave the poor girl out here in the woods at the mercy of the elements and the animals. Her family deserved to have her body to mourn.

"No," Lexa said firmly, turning away.

Clarke grabbed at her arm and pulled her back without thinking. Lexa's whole body froze and her eyes when they moved from Clarke's hand around her arm to her face were dangerous. Nervously, Clarke withdrew her hand.

"We can't leave her here," Clarke said, trying to sound as firm as Lexa had, but wavering in the face of Lexa's steely expression. "Don't you want to know who did this to her?"

Lexa's eyes drifted passed Clarke to the body on the tree. Without flinching she held her gaze, something that would have made Clarke's stomach turn.

"I know who did this to her, Clarke," she said without emotion. "We did."

In a swirl of cloth and braids, she spun out of Clarke's grin and strode off through the trees. Stunned, Clarke was frozen for several seconds, processing Lexa's words. It had never crossed her mind that Lexa's own people had done this. She'd expected Lexa to declare vengeance. She'd expected to see that now-familiar fire ignite in her eyes.

Jolting from her shock, Clarke ran after Lexa. She whirled around in front of her, blocking her path, narrowly avoiding a collision.

"Explain," Clarke demanded. The surprise on Lexa's face reminded Clarke that no one stood in Lexa's way and no one certainly demanded an explanation from her now that she was Commander. Clarke had never felt the obligation for honour that the Grounders had though, and she'd always had a sneaky suspicion that that was what Lexa had liked about her.

She took a deep breath and tried again. "Tell me what you mean," she pleaded.

Lexa huffed and looked over her shoulder as though she wanted to be anywhere but there.

"It's a ritual, Clarke," she said shortly. "Young people who show potential for warriorship must undertake a survival ritual. They are tied to a tree in the woods, bled and stripped of warm clothing and left for three nights. Only those with the mental and physical strength to survive can fight for our people."

The way she explained it was text-book and detached, but it didn't take Clarke long to realize that Lexa was only describing something that she would have experienced herself. Clarke took a step back. She'd never seen the Grounders customs as barbaric like most of the Arkians did, but she was horrified by the coldness and brutality of what Lexa described. She couldn't understand how anyone could survive three nights in the freezing woods without food or water or shelter, exposed to the terrifying creatures that lurked there.

"Do you still remember it?" Clarke asked after a taught silence had stretched between them. Lexa was refusing to look at her, her gaze fixed stonily on the distant trees and her arms crossed over her chest.

Lexa's eyes flickered and then swung to Clarke's face. She hesitated and then gave a slight nod.

"Every minute."

* * *

As the sun rose over the edge of the mountains, it shed its light upon the forest. Crouched in the shelter of a large tree, a young girl welcomed it with her whole heart. Stiffly, she rose to her feet and looked towards her village where she could already hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Through the trunks a small party appeared, led by a broad-shouldered man in war paint. He showed no surprise upon seeing the girl ahead of him, shifting anxiously from foot to foot as they approached.

"Have you been here all night, Kostia?" he asked in Trigdeslang, coming to a halt in front of the girl. She nodded silently, biting her lip, wishing he would hurry up.

He grunted and it wasn't clear whether he disapproved or not, and she didn't care.

"It's been three nights," Kostia said, glancing away distractedly. "With all respect, Koll, can we stop wasting time?"

He looked as though he wanted to reprimand her insolence but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he marched off through the trees, his little group following him and Kostia pattering along at his side, running to keep up with his long strides.

As they entered the clearing that Kostia had been guarding, she only just managed to stop herself running to the large tree where Leksa was tied. There was procedure to be followed and if Koll didn't cut the ropes first, the whole dreadful ordeal would be void. And the last thing Kostia wanted was for Leksa to have to go through that again.

Dancing from foot to foot she stayed back with the others as Koll crossed the clearing. Desperately she tried to peer around his bulk, to catch any reaction from Leksa to his presence. In the crystalline air she swore she heard the sound of the blade severing the ropes and she shot across the clearing without thought.

"Leksa? Leksa?" she demanded, pushing in beside Koll. He pulled the ropes away and quickly caught the dead-weight of the girl as she fell forward. Kostia ran her hands over her shoulders and her hair and her face, too agitated to know what to do.

Finally she settled her hands on Leksa's cheek, crusted with mud and dried blood.

"It's over, it's over," she said like a mantra as Koll, sighing with frustration over Kostia, held his hand to Leksa's unstained throat. Kostia could hear her blood pounding in her ears in the silence that followed as she looked frantically between Leksa's unresponsive face and Koll's gruff one.

After what felt like an eternity, Koll gave a cryptic grunt. Kostia was close to screaming with exasperation.

Koll turned to the little crowd behind him. "She has survived," he announced. "She is strong."

Kostia gasped and all but pushed Koll out of the way as she wrapped her arms around Leksa and half-collapsed with her onto the ground. Torn between affectionate amusement and frustration, Koll moved away respectfully, entering into quiet discussion with one of the women in the crowd. The other two women moved to Kostia who was holding tight to Leksa as if she was terrified to let her go again. She was crying now, quietly, tears tracking through the dirt on her face. She never normally cried but for the last three days and nights she had been in a state of agony. It had been the worst thing in the world to watch as they tied Leksa to the tree, cut into her pale skin and then left her there to live or to die. Kostia had barely eaten, she hadn't slept, and she'd spent nearly as much time in the woods as Leksa had. After the first two days, the people of the village had given up trying to make her eat or drink or take shelter from the cold rains that swept in at night.

It was not that they did not understand love or affection, but no one had ever known such an intense bond as the one between Leksa and Kostia and none of them could understand the strange little world that the two young women lived in.

"We're going home now," Kostia whispered in Leksa's ear, hoping she could hear her, rubbing her hands over her icy skin. She hated the barbaric ritual that proved nothing in her view, but it had been important to Leksa who was so firm on traditions. No matter how much Kostia had begged her not to submit to it, there had been no talking Leksa out of taking the test. And if she _had_ been talked out of it, she wouldn't be the fierce, strong-willed and determined girl that Kostia loved.

* * *

**A/N: Even though it feels as though I do this every chapter, I'm sorry for the lateness. My laptop has broken down so I am posting this from my housemate's computer using the wonderful Dropbox where (luckily) I store all my writing files for disastrous occasions just like this. I'm quite proud of this chapter - I never initially intended to include Leksa/Kostia flashbacks but I was so inspired by the amazing talent of Jamie Brown (look her up on Soundcloud!) and her Lexa x Costia song 'Like I Did' that they just fell from my fingertips onto the keyboard. So yes, that does mean you can expect more flashbacks in future chapters. I already have three written. So please, please let me know what you think of this new perspective, of Kostia and the glimpses into Lexa's first love, as well as the old Clexa times too, of course. Thanks for all being so patient with me and still ready (which I presume you are if you've gotten this far).**

**\- Lu**


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